


we have to be quiet

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Best Friends, Car Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, Gen, Hand Jobs, Hook-Up, M/M, Post-Canon, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Stan honestly doesn’t know how they got to this point.  Ten minutes ago they were kissing in the back of the van –just to see what it’s like, Richie had pleaded with big, brown eyes – and now Richie is whimpering beneath him and Stan is so hard it hurts.  They’re rutting against each other desperately, rocking the van like some cliché high school romance movie, and Stan feels his ears go red when Richie lets out a deep moan.  It’s loud in the empty van and it sets Stan’s nerves on fire.  If they get caught, they are going to be in somedeepshit.
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 10
Kudos: 160
Collections: Anonymous





	we have to be quiet

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in some nebulous post-high school cross-country road trip au that i'll never add to. we're here for the hookup anyways so the deets don't really matter do they

Stan honestly doesn’t know how they got to this point. Ten minutes ago they were kissing in the back of the van – _just to see what it’s like_ , Richie had pleaded with big, brown eyes – and now Richie is whimpering beneath him and Stan is so hard it hurts. They’re rutting against each other desperately, rocking the van like some cliché high school romance movie, and Stan feels his ears go red when Richie lets out a deep moan. It’s loud in the empty van and it sets Stan’s nerves on fire. If they get caught, they are going to be in some _deep_ shit.

The thought, while not enough to kill his hard-on, does make him whisper “gotta be quiet!” into Richie’s neck, lips moving against sweaty skin.

Richie, for his part, bucks up against Stan’s thigh, panting out, “ _Can’t._ ” He must get just the right angle, because he gasps and babbles, his voice practically gone, “So _close_ , Stanley…I’m c- _close_. Oh my— _fuck!_ ”

For a second Stan is jealous, wishing he could forget everything – forget their friends, forget their responsibilities, forget that they’re parked at a freaking truck stop in the middle of Nevada – and let go like Richie, give himself to the moment. But their friends are bound to be back from the showers any minute now and he’s terrified. When Richie lets out a broken cry, his fingers digging into Stan’s hips, Stan reacts without thinking and claps a hand over his friend’s mouth. The slap of skin-on-skin echoes in the van like a gunshot and suddenly everything is quiet and still. Richie flops down like his strings have been cut.

It eases Stan’s anxiety, but only marginally. “We have to be _quiet_ ,” Stan repeats, keeping his hand against Richie’s lips even as he pulls himself up onto his hands and knees, straddling Richie but keeping just out of reach. “If you can’t keep it down, I’m done, okay? I’m done and you’re gonna go to sleep with balls so blue they fall off. Got it?”

Even in the near darkness, Stan can see that Richie’s eyes are huge. He makes a high-pitched sound beneath Stan’s hand and nods his head quickly, agreeing so readily Stan almost wants to laugh. It’s only because he respects his friend so much that he manages to hold it back.

“If I take my hand off your mouth are you gonna stay quiet?” Stan demands, his knees starting to ache where they’re digging into the floor. Despite the mattress spread across the back, the metal is unforgiving. It makes for many uncomfortable nights followed by tense mornings. “You gonna be good?”

Richie nods again, his breath coming harshly through his nose and tickling Stan’s fingers where they’re clamped over his lips. Satisfied but wary, Stan finally pulls back. “Sorry,” Richie whispers immediately, then lifts his hips, searching for friction. When Stan won’t give it to him, won’t settle back down between Richie’s hips, he whines in frustration. “Please,” he says, but this time it’s quiet, barely a breath. He’s trying so hard to be good. “Please touch me, Stan… _please_.”

A shiver runs down Stan’s spine, the plea going straight to his dick. “Okay,” he whispers back, shaky. “Okay, Rich…okay okay okay.” 

Mind made up, Stan slides off Richie’s lap to lie next to him, tossing Richie a sharp glare when he makes a noise of protest. His friend instantly shuts up. Then, once the van is quiet save for their heavy breathing, Stan sticks his hand down the front of Richie’s athletic shorts and wraps his hand around his dick. They both shudder at the contact.

“Don’t make a fucking sound,” Stan orders, red-hot _want_ coursing through him as Richie twitches under his hand. “Or I’ll stop. I mean it.”

Digging his teeth into his lips, Richie nods soundlessly and squeezes his eyes shut, letting his head fall back against the pillow as Stan finally starts moving. It doesn’t take long for Richie to get close again, his whole body trembling and nostrils flaring as he tries to keep his noises inside. He’s biting his lips so hard Stan can see white.

Just as Richie starts smacking Stan’s arm, a silent warning that he’s going to come, the side door of the van slides open and Bill tumbles inside, hair wet from a shower. “You g-guys still awake?” he asks cheerfully, eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness enough to get a good look at them. “It’s so freaking l-l-late.”

Keeping his face blank and emotionless, Stan gives Richie’s dick one more stroke and Richie comes hard, curling into himself with a low, gurgling sound from the back of his throat. Then, because Richie shouldn’t have to shake alone and exposed, Stan pulls his best friend in to hide against his chest. His back is to Bill, shielding his dirty shorts from view. “Richie is sleeping,” Stan lies, his arms curled protectively around Richie’s back. He’s still trembling. “He’s not feeling good.”

“Sucks,” Bill says with a sympathetic pout of his lips, but he’s clearly not too worried about it because he flops into the middle bench seat and fluffs his pillow up. “Guess we should all sleep, then. The rest are only gonna be a s-s-second, then we’ll hit the r-road again.”

“Sounds good,” Stan says distractedly, rubbing calming hands up and down Richie’s back until the tremors finally subside. Richie doesn’t pull away.

They stay like that for what feels like ages, Stan hard in his sweatpants and Richie breathing into Stan’s shirt, the cloth going hot and damp with it. They stay like that when the other Losers get back from the showers, when Bill announces they have six more hours to go until L.A., and when Mike finally pulls out of the parking lot, taking them down the highway at last. They stay like that for a very, _very_ long time.

Richie hasn’t moved since coming and Stan wonders if he really did fall asleep. He’s basically given up on an orgasm of his own at this point – this chance with Richie is gone and there’s no telling if he’ll ever get another one – but some fifteen miles down the road, Richie finally speaks, voice so low Stan has to strain to hear him. “Thank you,” he whispers, craning his head up so he can say it right into Stan’s ear. “You’re incredible.”

Then he puts a hand down Stan’s sweats.

It’s embarrassing how fast Stan comes, nearly biting through his lips to hold back a loud cry that no doubt would have woken his friends and made Mike slam on the brakes. This time it’s Richie’s turn to snicker, wiping his messy hand on the inside of Stan’s pants and murmuring, “We have to be _quiet_ , remember?” 

Stan’s shaking too hard to defend himself, face burning as his own desperate breathing rings in his ears. But then Richie is pressing a kiss to his temple and running fingers through Stan’s tangled hair and everything feels better. “You’re my best friend,” Stan slurs, for Richie’s ears only.

“And you’re mine,” Richie tells him, pulling a blanket up over their sweaty bodies. He leans in for one last kiss on the cheek and then they sleep.


End file.
